A Heart Full of Love
by LadyWillow
Summary: AU When Valjean and Marius die on the baracade, Javert's sense of honor brings him to Rue Plumet to notify the next of kin. What happens when Cosette needs a protector, and Javert needs to feel for the first time in his life? [Cosette Javert romance]


**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters or plot or anything like that, mmkay? However, I do own the plot and stuff, so no stealing or Imma hit you with a brick. O

**Notes**: This is going to eventually be a Cosette/Javert romantic fanfic, so if you don't like that, then for Heaven's sake, don't read it! Things will probably become adult eventually, I will change the rating if and when that happens, not before. So, if you become a fan of this series, please put it in your favorites list or bookmark it or something so you can find it again if I change the rating. I'll try to offer some warning. Also, this was written as a roleplay between myself and a friend. I played Cosette, and he played Javert.

**A Heart Full of Love**

_Chapter One:_

Javert climbed the last part of the barricade in a madman's haste, rushing over the top and stepping across the bodies of the fallen students. He leapt from crevice to crevice in his rapid descent, stopping only as he hit the ground next to an older man. The man laid still, and Javert turned him onto his back and looked at the face deeply, crossing himself. "It is done then." And with that, he stood and turned, leaving the bodies where they lay.

The house on Rue Plumet was a nice one, wonderful and well-made. Javert had seen it before, waiting to arrest Valjean...and now his prey was no more. He wished nothing more than to pass the news to the man's next-of-kin and pass this business off his life. Raising a hand, the Inspector knocked once, twice, three times. He stepped back and waited on the reply, standing bolt upright at attention.

"Mademoiselle. I am Inspector Javert of the French Army, here to bring news of the barricade." He spoke with no emotion, his voice as unfeeling as the walls around him or the sword on his hip. "Is the the home and residence of prisoner 24601? A mister Jean Valjean?" He looked at the young woman before him, a housekeeper perhaps. Valjean had been an interesting man, and this woman could be many things...for the moment, he presumed her a housekeeper.

Cosette frowned, cocking her head slightly up at the rigid man. "Non, monsieur, there is no one here by that name. I live here alone with my father, Monsieur Fauchelevent, and our housekeeper. Perhaps you have the wrong address?" How cruel fate was, to finally bring news of the baricades and have it be meant for someone else!

Javert paused, rerunning the address in his head. 512 Rue Plumet, just as Valjean had said. "This Monsieur Fauchelevant, he was an older gentleman, correct? Serving at the walls of the barricade, amongst the students?" While he awaited a reply, Javert attempted to idly guess that woman's age. He presumed somewhere around eighteen, within a few years either way. She seemed familiar...he had seen her face before, the day that he had encountered Valjean near Thenardier, but he had not recognized until just now.

Cosette paled considerably. "Oui, he went to the barricades to-" she cut off, quivering. "Please monsieur, what do you mean by prisoner? Surely this must be a coincidence, my father is a good man, not some common criminal!" To her embarrassment, she felt tears welling up in her eyes, and quickly blinked and looked away for a moment to compose herself. She knew deep down what this man must be here to tell her, but it just could not be!

Javert spoke still, emotionless. "I have come from the barricade myself, not but a few hours ago. There are no survivors. The students fell to the last one. Among them was prisoner 24601, who I have hunted for ten years. He earned his fate for his crimes, and I have come to notify his next of kin. Jean Valjean is no more, I have seen it with mine own gaze." He paused. "I am sorry for your loss."

Cosette faltered. "N-no, you must have the wrong man. Papa would not have died! He would not have left me alone!" she exclaimed, her face crumpling. Quickly turning to the carved coat rack to the side of the door, she rifled through the various garments and pulled out her favorite cloak, wrapping it securely about her shoulders and attempting to push past Javert. "I must find him!"

Javert moved out one arm, holding her back. "Jean Valjean is dead. I am as sure of that as the stars are of the course they hold." He did not mention that he had helped the French Army to charge, nor did he mention his personal feelings of a vendetta fulfilled with Valjeans death. The man had made him look a fool, doubt himself...inexcusable actions. "Seeing the barricade may only torment you more."

"Let me go!" she cried, trying to wrench out of his arms. "Papa! _Papa_!" she wailed, losing her drive and collapsing to the ground in a heap of sobs, her body pulling Javert's arm down with her. Raising her hands to her face, she continued to wail, unable to believe that her father and love had been taken from her in one swoop, leaving her alone in the world with nothing.

Javert looked down at the girl, his heart and mind fighting against each other. If Valjean was to provide for her, was it not the Lord's will that she be provided for? Surely if a common criminal could lead her, the righteous man could. "Mademoiselle. If you insist to see the battle, I will take you there. Otherwise, it is in your best interest to go iside, and maybe have a sip of wine."

Cosette looked up at the man, cheeks streaked with tears. "There was a boy... a man, Marius Pontmercy... did he survive?" she whispered, shivering on the ground and bringing her knees to her chest.

"Mademoiselle..." Javert paused the slightest moment, then spoke. His voice showed the first hint of an emotion. "There were no survivors when I climbed over the barricade, mademoiselle." He attempted to raise her with his arm, trying to force her back into her home.

Her breath hitched in a soft sob, and she allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. "W-what happens to me now?" she whispered, rubbing at her tear-stained cheeks. "Papa was all I had in the world... he did not have a will, I shall lose everything, be thrust into the streets!" She began to sob anew, and in desperation for comfort, flung herself against Javert, clutching his shirt front in her hands and burrowing her face into his chest.

Javert stood still, rather shocked at feeling the warm tears on his chest. "Now, now, mademoiselle. I knew monsieur Valjean quite well, and will make certain you are cared for by the law. The Lord would not wish to see you thrust out upon the streets without reason." He did not know what to do with his hands, and therefor left them hanging at his sides. "The law will provide for you, mademoiselle."

"The law killed my father!" she wept, clutching to him tighter. "Please, monsieur, tell me what to do now!" she drew back enough to look up into his eyes. "Who will take care for me?"

"The law did not kill your father! No law killed him! He was a convict, and he did doom himself before all!" Javert spoke briskly, with an anger and a passion to his voice...as he always did when he spoke of the law. "The law and the righteous lead you to the reward of God. How ever would a man such as Valjean lead you? Innocent child, fear not."

Cosette quelled her tears, looking at him with wide eyes. "My father was a good, caring man! He provided for me even if it meant he had to go without! He gave me only the best of everything, and all of his love! You know nothing of him!" Wiping her tears away, she took a few steps back. "And now I'm all alone, who will lead me? You?" She faltered. What if he was going to care for her now?

How could the man she spoke of be the same Jean Valjean he had hunted? The idea haunted Javert's head. "Jean Valjean was a thief and a convict. He robbed a house of food in his greed and ran from the police. How is this man a good person to you? He was a criminal!"

She shook her head wildly. "If my father did that, it was to help someone! He would never hurt a person, he was good and kind! The law cannot always be right! There has to be excpetions, not everything is black and white in the world!" The tears came again. "Papa... oh Papa..." she moaned, shivering. "Please, monsieur. I do not wish to speak of the matter any longer, but to put it from my mind, or I will surely go mad. Tell me, what am I to do with myself? Surely the house will be taken from me by this time tomorrow, and what then? Where shall I go?"

"Then tomorrow you shall go with the sum of the government.The law is correct, and it is as easy as that." Javert pondered a second. Maybe the Lord had placed him here after the fall of Valjean in order to properly raise this woman, to show her the way of the law..."Mayhaps I could push for Rue Plumet to remain yours. Under the law, of course."

Cosette looked up at him in surprise. "You would do that...?" she murmured, awe-struck. "What must I give you in return?" She brought her cloak tighter around her shoulders, shivering in the cold night air. "A-and, who will care for me? I've never been on my own before, I cannot run this home on my own, cannot work for wages!"

Was it the Lord's will that brought him here? Javert became more certain of it. "If needed, mademoiselle, I shall care for the house and yourself. In the name of the law, of course." He was almost shocked at his own words, and crossed himself slightly. "The will of the Lord has brought me here, and here I shall help. Is that fitting for you, mademoiselle?"

Cosette blinked. "You, monsieur? Have you not a wife, a family?" But the thought was strangly intriguing. This man knew her papa, even if he hadn't a great opinion of him. She looked the man over and nodded. He was tall, and strong, surely able to defend her and keep her well-protected. And Cosette so greatly feared being alone... "Yes, monsieur, I would be pleased if you were to take me under your wing." she whispered, looking up at him through her lashes.

Javert returned the blink. "A family? No, mademoiselle. I have no family. Nor do I have a wife." Javert had been fanatical in his pursuit of Valjean for years now, forsaking all other quests in his life. "Then we shall be in this house on the morning light. I will send for my things as quick as can be." A thought struck him. "Mademoiselle? Your name?"

"Cosette, monsieur. And yours?" she looked at him a bit shyly now, realizing that he would live here, in her home, with her. He would probably occupy her father's room, take on his roll of protecting and caring for her, providing for her needs... so why was she unable to imagine him as one would a father?"

"Mademoiselle Cosette, I am Javert. Inspector for the armies of France. I have seen you but once before, when Valjean was accosted in the street by Thenardier, a man of ill repute who hangs about the alleyways." Javert smiled slightly. "Care to show a man to his room?"

A flutter of memory floated through her mind, but was gone before she could catch it, and she nodded absently. "Of course, this way, monsieur Javert." she murmured, and took his arm, trembling slightly. Slowly she led him into the house, imediately seeing all the things of her father's about and feeling her eyes well up with tears. She quickly blinked them away and brought the tall man through the halls and up a flight of stairs, to a bedroom. "This is the guest room... I-I should like to go through Papa's things, and then you may move to his room if you wish..." again, those damned tears built up in her eyes, but she managed to work them back down. Looking up, she met his gaze, and gave him a weak smile.

"Thank you, monsieur Javert. Your protection is most welcome and appreciated." Leaning up, she shyly pressed a kiss to his cheek, almost against the side of his mouth, just as she had kissed her papa every night before bed. Why did it seem so different?

Javert was uncertain of his thoughts, confused and weary from the battle. He knew Valjean to be a dishonest man and a thief, yet still Cosette had seemed to love him as a father. What had there been to Valjean that he had not seen? The feel of her lips lingered against his cheek as he sat down. "You are welcome, mademoiselle Cosette."

Faltering, Cosette took a few steps toward him, then looked away, unsure of what she had been thinking. "Are you going to retire for the evening, monsieur Javert?" she whispered, meeting his gaze for a moment before looking away. "Do you require anything? A drink, perhaps?" For some reason, she did not long to be alone with her mourning, but instead, to be by this man's side. His stoic presence would no doubt unnerve most, but for some reason, she found him to be strangely comforting.

At the mention of drink, he nodded. In his mind he heard the students singing over the wine that had passed around while he waited in captivity, and the memory bore an odd pain. While they had been in the wrong, they had been young. It was a shame to know of the fate that had befallen them. "Some wine may help clear muddled heads."

Nodding, Cosette dropped a soft curtsey, then moved swiftly from the room and to the kitchen. The housekeeper had gone to bed, quite obviously, and she found a wine bottle and poured a glass with shaking hands, almost dropping the bottle. Corking it again, she carried the glass up the stairs and to the guest room, letting hersel in shyly to find Javert exactly where she had left him. She sighed in relief, part of her had foolishly worried that he would have disappeared while she was gone, even if she had only been out of his presence for less than two minutes. Handing him the glass, she lowered herself to sit at his feet, and looked up at him adoringly.

Javert grasped his wine tightly, drinking at it greedily. This world had thrown his own upside down, his mind reeling to merge the Valjean he had known with the Valjean that she had adored. "Mademoiselle Cosette...was Monsiuer Valjean a good man? An honest man? A man who lived in the faith, who walked the path of the righteous?"

Cosette looked thoughtful. "Papa was always good and kind, he and I fed the homeless, gave them clothes... he always put others before himself. For many years, we lived in a convent. Papa and I attended mass every day, he was their gardener in exchange for my education. Papa always spoke of God giving him a chance to redeem himself in His eyes, and he wanted so very badly to do right by me, even though I was not his own..." She wiped at a few tears that had escaped. "You say my father was a criminal, but I cannot understand why. If he stole food, it surely must have been for someone who needed it. If he escaped, it was only because he felt he was unjustly punished... Papa was a good man. Please, monsieur Javert, you must believe me. Papa was so good..."

How was such a thing possible? Javert drank the rest of his glass down quickly. The man had been a convict, and men such as him would never change! Such things were not within the grasp of those men...were they? "Mademoiselle Cosette, you tell me that he wished to be righted by the Lord? That he walked the path of the righteous? That he could have been the better man all this time?"

"I know of no better man than my father." she stood, and looked at him for a moment, then slipped from the room, returning moments later with the two silver candlesticks from her father's room. "A priest gave these to my father long ago. He told me that this man taught him that God had not forsaken him, and had a plan for my father, one that he could not deny. He told him that God would give him a second chance if he bettered himself." She placed them on the beside table, stroking along the cool surface with her fingertips, seemingly lost in thought. "My father lit these candles every night before bed and prayed."

Javert himself was lost in thought. Could Valjean have been the better man? Were such a deed possible? He stood. "Mademoiselle Cosette, much weighs heavy on my mind. I must walk, and will be back as soon as I am able...my world has been torn asunder." Without another word, he left the room briskly. His cane turned in his hand as he began to walk the streets towards a place of solace: the bridge over the Sein. The water calmed his nerves.

_To be continued, please review!_


End file.
